The Blood Slave
by Beautiful Blood Red Roses
Summary: The year is 1885. Edward Masen, a man of mystery, needs a new blood slave. His old one, Tanya, died. What happens when Edward finds Bella, a homeless girl that had been abandoned, while hunting? AU, OOC, VERY Scary Darkward
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer****: I do NOT own Twilight; Stepenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**Summary:**** The year is 1885. Edward Masen, a man of mystery, needs a new blood slave. His old one, Tanya, died. What happens when Edward finds Bella, a homeless girl that had been abandoned, while hunting? AU, OOC, VERY Scary Darkward**

**WARNING:**** This story will contain lemons (sex) in future chapters. That's why this story is rated M. There are adult themes such as rape, violence, and probably other things, too. If you are not comfortable with that, I suggest you read a different story. If you aren't comfortable with things that are only for mature people, I suggest you think twice before feasting your eyes on this story. It will be the darkest story that I will ever write. Edward will be very cruel, dark, and above all, violent in the beginning and middle of this story. Also, if you can't handle drama, suspense, romance, or very dark themes, I recommend reading a different story. Don't worry, though. It won't go past an M rating; I sincerely assure you...I think. :)**

**This story is dark. It's not going to be a girly fairytale about how boy meets girl and boy loves girl immediately. These characters are fucked up and are basically the dramatization of what happens in real life. If you are scarred from reading this piece of fiction, it's not my problem because ****you have been warned****. I know that sounds mean, but I'm just trying to warn you.**

**Again, Edward will be violent, extremely dark, and quite frankly, cruel throughout some of this story until an event changes everything.**

**Bella will be a somewhat pathetic creature, showing the characteristics of a young girl who already has problems in her life before Edward decides to jump on the chance of using her. Yes, I said **_**using**_** her.**

***If you haven't guessed it already, this story is dedicated to all the unfortunate girls that are kidnapped and shamelessly used by disgusting men who have no sense of guilt and don't consider how mentally and physically damaging it is to the women that are raped. The romance in future chapters is only included to make this story have a happy ending and ensure no one stops reading this because they have tears in their eyes (but that might actually happen at some point anyway). Rape is horrible and it happens every day. Kidnapping is just as bad in some situations, especially if a girl is kidnapped to be sold into the sex slave trade.***

**And now, after reading an almost full paged warning, I give you:**

The Blood Slave

Chapter 1

I sat against the wall in the alley shivering, my knees pressed against my breasts to try and keep the small amount of heat that radiated from my now chilled body. Why did it have to be so bloody cold throughout these harsh winter times? What did I do to deserve to endure them without shelter, without hope? Was I truly that despicable of a person?

Yes. According to Sue Clearwater, who had become Sue Swan after my wonderful mother had sadly died of an unknown cause a few years ago. She had left home to go to the library and had never returned. My father claimed she had run off with some other man to live in sin, not wanting to believe that she might be dead, until they found her body…completely drained of blood.

I was horrified, shocked, and felt internally scarred when I was told this information. What sort of disgusting, foolish lunatic would drain a body of blood for? To savor the kill of a living, breathing person who could think and feel? To give themselves some sort of sick sexual gratification from the act? I had unfortunately come across a rather naughty book that told me tales that I'd never repeat of what strange men and women found arousing; I still shivered whenever I thought of that book, but this shiver was mostly from this blasted cold weather.

Why couldn't my parents have lived in a place that was warm all year long? That would have made it so much easier for me. At the very least, they could have shipped me off to an area that was sunny and hot almost all the time. They also could have graciously let me stay with them.

My father would have let me stay. I knew he would have. He had always had a 'soft spot' for his only child, his only heir, but the moment Sue stepped in the front door and married him, he… I closed my eyes, not wanting to see those painful memories of the past. I couldn't cry – that would drain what little energy I had left in me even more.

I couldn't help but wonder what would've happened to me if our landlord hadn't set a rule against more than a certain amount of people in the houses that he rented, if I hadn't been the one who was chosen to leave the house (by Sue, of course). We would've have fit perfectly together as a family, all five of us, if Sue hadn't became with child and that…silly landlord hadn't made that rule. I'd never met the man, but I'm sure he was a…well, I'd rather not use coarse language like _that_. It doesn't help anything. I felt it was all right to use the smaller ghastly words, but the word that I'd just thought of to describe that man was utterly horrible.

_Why, oh, why couldn't they have given me some money to start out my 'new adult life', as Sue had put it? Why couldn't my father put his foot down and tell Sue to force one of her legally adult 'children' out of the house? Why me? Why is it _always_ me?_

The more I thought about it, the more I wondered, _Why couldn't we have just moved to another house, stay together? Did Sue really hate me that much? Why? Was I that horrid?_

I looked around to my left and saw my only friend, Jessica, huddled next to me. I hadn't noticed her sitting next to me – I'd been too busy asking questions in my own little world. I thought of the two of us and summed us up in three words – poor and miscomprehended. She was such a misinterpreted girl, as was I now. I understood her, though. I knew what it felt like to not be loved by anyone. I was the sort of person who could die today and have no one give a damn when they found out. Jessica and I were alike in that sense.

"D-did you find anyone for tonight?" I stuttered from the shivers that wracked my body. I never knew how I could take such physical pain. It hurt so much; everything hurt so much. My joints ached from frost bite, my eyes stung from the harsh wind whipping them, my lips were chapped and cracked, and above all, my wrist throbbed with the soreness of yesterday's new injury. Surprise, surprise – I fell down on the icy roads again.

"No," she said hoarsely. She turned and coughed. She was so sick with tuberculosis. I wondered sadly if she would make it through the winter this year. I would have no friends, then. I supposed I could start chatting with her friend Lauren, but… "Madam Jane said I was too ill to please her men tonight. Are you quite sure that you don't want to, Isabella? Innocent virgins are paid so much more than I would be paid at this point. I've been with almost all of her men, and they are tired of me. At least, that is what Madame Jane says."

I grimaced. I would not stoop to offering my body for money from those… those scoundrels. I was above that. I internally chuckled to myself at the sickly humorous statement that popped into my head – I was considered a 'bum living off the streets', yet I would not become a prostitute like Jessica, even though I had been offered high sums of money in the past – I realized that that wasn't even remotely funny after a moment. A lot of men wanted to 'pop my cherry', apparently. I refused to let that happen. When I married, then and only then would I allow my state of virginity fall away and be taken. It would be my gift to my husband, and it was the only thing I could ever truly offer him. I had nothing else. I didn't even have a dowry anymore, thanks to Sue, my darling stepmother. But as the days went on, the more enticing these offers became. I wasn't even close to having a kind, respectable man sweep me off my dirty feet, so naturally, those 'generous' offers of money for sex started to seem more realistic for survival. But something told me, instinct or insanity, perhaps, to not throw it away. Not yet. "Jessica, you know how I feel about this. I cannot do it. I simply cannot do it."

"But what if it means death first? It's so cold; we could freeze." Her teeth chattered as she spoke these unintentionally heartbreaking words.

"So be it," I whispered after a few seconds of silence (with the exception of the wind tumbling through our little alley), mostly to myself, feeling stronger. I would not, could not give this precious gift away to a stranger that did not even care to appreciate it. I would feel disgusted with myself afterwards. I _would not_ be called a 'whore' in the future. I _would not_ be considered a 'harlot' or even a 'tart'. That wasn't who I was. I was raised better than that and I would not let myself become that and give into those guilty pleasures. "Perhaps we could find some other sort of occupation or maybe try and find a dry place for a while?" I suggested lightly. "It's so terribly cold."

"Well…" a flicker of a smile ghosted across her sickly pale features, "We could… Oh, dash it all, I don't know! All I know is that I'm freezing cold!" she moaned as she raised her head to the sky. She shivered when the wind brushed against her neck and quickly tucked it behind her thin, summer shawl.

"Did any of your friends at Madam Jane's tell you of warm places they'd be at today?" I wondered, trying to not put such an obvious emphasis on 'warm'. I would occasionally meet Jessica's prostitute friends for an outing every now and then (with Jessica, of course). "I haven't seen them in so dreadfully long." I really loved to see other people. I became so lonely after living this way for a while.

"I don't – yes! I do know. They said that they would be going to a funeral for a girl named Tanya Denali. Apparently, she had disappeared about a year ago or so and her body had been found this week. I thought she had quit…" she trailed off, shaking her head to herself. "She worked at Madame Jane's as well, you know. She was a kind girl, but you wouldn't realize it until you knew her for a while," she babbled on. "You never met her...well, you didn't meet her when I was around, Isabella."

"Would it be horrible of us to join in the visitation to 'celebrate' the parting of her soul from her body?" asked, feeling a little guilty. I had probably never met her (knowing my shyness), yet I wanted to go to her funeral to be in a warmer climate for a little while. Surely she wouldn't have minded if she were alive to tell me so.

"Only if we go dressed in these rags," she answered shakily with a sigh. "You know it is considered disrespectful to appear at a funeral dressed like…well, like we are."

"Oh, dear," I commented, thinking of nothing else to say. Her words kind of stung even though I knew well that they were true.

She gasped which quickly turned into a coughing fit. "Lauren would let us borrow a couple of her dresses and some jewelry, maybe even some shoes even we're lucky. I always borrow something from her when I am going to be with a man for the night and it fits. We are about the same size so it should fit you well, too. Madam Jane barely allows me into her home with this dress on," she added, motioning toward her outfit. I stared at it for a moment. It was a conservative, gray gown that went to her ankles. It would have been quite attractive several years ago, but now it went above her ankles and it was tattered in several areas now. There were many multi-colored patches that covered the dress. On top of that, it was covered in dirt and had a faint odor to it since it hadn't been washed in so long.

"She was a friend of yours?" I asked, turning my body slightly to face her. The wind hit my back, and it instantly chilled. I frowned slightly – I had probably spent an hour of my time with my back pressed against that wall for warmth, and it all left in less than a second. It simply wasn't fair.

"Yes, we spoke occasionally. Once, we had to…well, together we… I don't know how to say this delicately, Isabella," she said, her brown eyes pleading with me to understand.

"What are you talking about, Jessica? I don't understand." My brows furrowed deeper.

"We…we did things together with a man once." She turned away, ashamed. Her long, brown hair tumbled over her right shoulder, creating a veil of privacy and secrecy. We both did this often.

"Oh." My eyes widened, finally grasping what she was trying to say. No wonder she decided to hide behind her hair. "Is that even possible?" I wondered. How could three people try to…do _that_?

"Oh, Isabella, you would be surprised and would probably go into shock if you saw some of the things that happen at Madam Jane's," she said with a twinge of sadness, shaking her head back and forth. I guessed that she didn't enjoy everything she did at that…whore house. I tried to think of a different, more polite way to word that, but it just was a whore house. I felt so sorry for Jessica, having to offer her body for money. If only… I sighed.

"You're probably right," I agreed quietly. I set my hand on the cold brick floor only to recoil – when I had put my hand down, it had stung with a sharp pain of coldness. "Come, let us go to Madame Jane's now. It is too cold for us to endure this any longer." I stood and turned to find her still lying on the cold ground.

"Would you help me up? I'm ever so sorry, Isabella, but I just can't seem to move that easily anymore." She chuckled sadly. "I'm not even old and I need help to stand," she muttered to herself.

"Do not be so ashamed of that. You have been through hard times, as have I," I said strongly with emotion in my voice. The things we had both been put through… I held out my hand for her to grasp. She tugged herself upright while I braced my foot against the brick wall. I was weaker than I thought.

"Thank you," she said quietly, looking at her reddening hands. They looked so chilled.

"Any time," I answered, starting to walk down the alley. She followed.

"Speaking of time," she started, and I could hear a little grin in her voice, "What time is it?"

"I honestly have no clue," I replied, frowning as I looked at the sky. "But I believe it is morning. When did you ask Madam Jane if you could…erm…" I trailed off, not wanting to say it aloud. I supposed I was prudish, as Lauren had told me.

"Probably about an hour ago. I went through some of the trash cans outside of Newton's to see if there was anything we could use. I found a nickel on the street while I looked for you," she said proudly.

"That's wonderful!" I replied in an enthusiastic tone. "What are you going to do with the money?" I wondered.

"Oh, I'll probably buy something for the two of us. Food, clothing, shelter…" she said with a heavy sigh.

"Perhaps we could try to save money to buy ourselves a blanket," I suggested.

"That's a wonderful idea, Isabella." She turned her head to smile at me. "I'll save half the money I receive from Madame Jane's," she promised.

"And I'll try to get a job or something. I'll even look for money in the streets if I have to," I said, determined.

"We'll have that blanket in no time!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "And with all this money we'll save together, we might be able to buy other things. I really need a new dress. You do, too," she said, looking at my roughly tattered dress. I looked down at what used to be my favorite gown in my closet. I guessed I didn't even have a closet now. The dark blue dress was torn and ripped at the ends, showing my shoes that were now almost completely broken – one of the heels had fallen off even. My dress had patches on it as well, just like Jessica's dress.

"You know, I think you're right," I said in a defeated voice. I had always said that my dress was just fine, not wanting to accept that it was worn out.

"Oh, Isabella, I'm sure we can buy you a dress that looks similar to this one when it was brand new," she said, making me feel a little better.

"Do you really think so, Jessica?" I asked.

"I know it," she said firmly. "Oh, thank goodness we're here. It's too cold to be out here."

"Agreed," I answered immediately, knocking the door. She gave me a curious look. "What? Have I done something wrong?"

"Why did you knock?" she asked. A small smile crept up her face slowly.

I wrung my hands out of a nervous habit that I'd been trying to put a stop to for years now. "Um…" was my only response.

She giggled. "Do you really think that you need to knock before going in a place like this?" she pressed further, bemused now.

"No, I suppose not," I muttered, looking at the snowy greeting mat. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

A few seconds passed, and she said, "Well, go on. Open the door." I opened it without another word.

**Updates (for this story) will be based on how much time I have for right now. I'm trying to focus on Paparazzi and His Secretary, Love, and Obsession until they're finished. And, no, I'm not going to take like three months to update. That'd just be plain darn mean. I can't do that to my readers! :)**

**Oh! And if people like this story, I'll be writing another called The Blood Slave's Captor or something like that (I'm not exactly sure about the title yet). It'll be the same story, only in Edward's POV.**

***People who don't have an account on this site can review my story also (because I accept 'Anonymous' Reviews).**

**Thanks for reading and please review! I'll send a teaser to those who've enabled PMs.**

**Emily**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

***Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews and please don't forget to leave me one at the end of the chapter so you can have your teaser (if you've enabled PMs)!***

The Blood Slave

Chapter Two

As expected, the smell of cigarettes and alcoholic beverages tainted the air in the little house. On the stair case in front of me, lay a well-dressed man on the first step, his head thrown back in pleasure. Well, he would have been a well-dressed man if he had been wearing his clothes. His hair, which looked like it had been slicked back earlier, was now a disarray of black. A woman wearing a scanty, fiery red night gown straddled his lap. Her tight brown curls bounced as she hopped up and down on top of him. I didn't really understand why he moaned, but I quickly looked away, feeling as though I had intruded. Also, I already began to feel dirty – I should not be seeing such horrid sights.

I glanced over to the left and stared into the living room. The couch contained a middle aged man lying on his back, his head propped up by an expensive looking pillow. A young, gorgeous blonde dangled her legs over his hips – their hips were only separated by what clothing they wore, which wasn't much. The man wore no shirt and black dress pants. He looked like a fairly wealthy man. The girl wore nothing but a lacy pair of underwear. I felt a surge of pity for her as she stared into the fire uninterestedly in front of her while the man fondled her breasts, sometimes roughly, sometimes not. She faked a moan occasionally when he looked up at her, and her face would contort into what would look like pleasure for him. He began to move his hips back and forth, and I wondered what on earth he could possibly be doing. He looked ridiculous.

I looked in between the stairs and the living room and stared down the hallway. It was dark and had many closed doors. But from behind those doors, I heard the cries of ecstasy. I shuddered, not wanting to guess _exactly_ what they were doing in there. Suddenly, the first door on the right burst open. It was Madam Jane.

She was so short, but so fierce. I wondered vaguely what kind of a past she must have had, considering her way of life now. She looked from me to Jessica. "Ah, Miss Swan. It is always wonderful to see you here. I do hope you have changed your mind toward my offer…?" she trailed off, looking directly into my eyes.

She had offered me sixty five percent of whatever the men decided to pay me for my first two months of working here. Then, I would always only receive fifty percent. Cheap...skank. "No, thank you, Madam Jane. It is…kind of you to offer, though." I tried to remain polite in case I ever became so poor that this was the only option left.

"Well, the offer is always open, as I always say. If you want to work in the morning, afternoon, or evening, just tell me your preference. As you can see, we have a few regulars that come in the morning," she chuckled, motioning toward the stairs and couch. She turned her attention to Jessica. "Didn't I tell you to get out, you little fool? I told you that you were too sick for tonight. Go away," she sneered.

"I'm s-sorry, Madam Jane, but I-Isabella and I just wanted to see Lauren," she stuttered softly.

"Is this true?" she asked in a more polite tone towards me. I nodded silently. "Well, I believe that Lauren is finished. She had a customer last night – he's our toughest one to please. Thank goodness he left happy." She shook her head to herself, closing her eyes briefly. "Well, go ahead, Isabella. Jessica." She nodded and began to walk toward the door. We both stepped aside quickly and scurried up the stairs.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Madam Jane exclaimed. Jessica and I spun around on our heel. "I'll be back within an hour. I need to go to a few places this morning for errands." And with that, she left. As soon as the door shut with a soft _click_, we both hurried up the steps. The staircase was the type that went up halfway and turned sharply to the left. I carefully tried to maneuver my way around the girl and the man with the black hair, trying to not disturb them. Once we reached the top of the steps, we stood directly above the entrance to the hallway downstairs. We trudged on forward.

When we reached Lauren's room, I turned to Jessica. "Can I knock now?" I asked, smiling.

She pretended to think for a moment. "If you really want to," she sighed.

"Well, I do," I said, knocking lightly on the door twice. No one answered.

"Knock harder," Jessica suggested from beside me. I rapped the door three times in a quick, harsher movement. After a few seconds, we heard a soft 'come in'.

"Will you open the door?" I asked, stepping aside slightly.

She gave me an incredulous look. "Why should I open the door?"

"Because you opened the last one," I pouted. We usually argued about little things like this to make our lives seem more important.

"You're being ridiculous," she muttered, but opened the door anyway.

"I know," I replied, stepping inside the little room. In the middle, there was a colossal sized poster bed with a canopy. The bed was made of dark wood with green canopy drapes. I looked behind the drapes to see a blonde head lying on soft-looking green pillows. Lauren.

"Isabella," she said softly. "Have you finally decided to become one of us?" She dramatically gestured toward the room around her with her arm.

"No, thank you," I said quietly, politely.

"Oh," she frowned and then shrugged. "Oh well. How've you been, both of you? I've missed you especially, Isabella, because I haven't seen you since June. It's been ever so dreadfully long," Lauren said quietly. She stretched her arms in the air, exposing her large breasts that peeked out above her warm-looking quilt. I quickly looked away. She chuckled throatily, noticing my blush. "My, my, it certainly is easy to tell that she is still a virgin, isn't it, Jessica?"

I looked over to Jessica just in time to see her shrug. "I suppose, though I…I wish that I were still a virgin, too." I glanced at Jessica, who turned away, but not quickly enough for me to not notice her tears of sorrow and regret. I pitied her, and wished that somehow she could have her innocence again. But that was impossible. Once a woman…did _that_, she could never be called a virgin again. However _that_ was done, that is. I still wasn't exactly sure.

Lauren blinked. "Now why in the world would you want that? Sex is a hell of a lot of fun. I wish that I could fully explain sex to you, Isabella – it's so…amazing. The best part, well, for me at least, is when you get to spread your legs. Men go crazy." She chuckled, smiling to herself. I guessed she was remembering…a certain experience.

I felt my face go from pink to almost red. "I'll take your word for it."

There was an awkward pause.

Lauren broke the silence first. "Well, what brings you two here today? Isabella never sets foot in here unless there's some sort of special occasion," she said accusingly. I was about to apologize for my obvious rudeness, but I noted the twinkling mischief in her eyes. I smiled sheepishly, still feeling the need to apologize in case she really did feel hurt, but was good at hiding it. Whores were known to be well-trained in hiding their emotions from others. They needed to.

"I'm sorry," I said, thinking of no other way to word it. What else could I have said? My apologies? A thousand pardons? I suppose I _could_ have said those things if I had wanted to…I mentally shrugged to myself, finding my extraneous inner conversations with myself just as unimportant as my pathetic life was.

"It's all right, dear. I guess if I were you, _I_ wouldn't want to be in this sort of environment all the time. Madam Jane would probably kick you out, anyway…that is, if you didn't work here and tried to live here or visit often. You know, if you did visit often, I bet it would turn you into a real vixen. So much exposure to our world just truly ruins a person," she added thoughtfully. A moment later, she shrugged as though she didn't even care.

I gulped. "Ruins a person?" I squeaked, repeating her words. The more I considered that, the more true it seemed. I didn't really want to admit that to myself that, though. The so called 'ruined' people were my only friends now. "Oh Lauren, I do hope that you do not put yourself in that category."

"I do. Undoubtedly. Now…" she sighed, pushing the sheets away from her body. She walked, appearing to have no shame in being naked, to her closet. "What brings you here?" She began to sort through her humungous closet. Well, it was huge to me. I thought back to my childhood closet, and blinked in surprise when I realized Lauren's closet was probably larger than 'my' closet.

Jessica let out a short laugh. "We were so caught up in our conversation that we forgot to tell you why we're here. Well, you know how everyone here was planning to give their last goodbyes to Miss Tanya Denali?" she asked.

"Yes," Lauren replied slowly, frowning.

"We were wondering if we could go with you," I said, a bit ashamed because I knew what I would have to ask next if she said 'yes'.

"Yes, of course. I was hoping you would join us, actually." She sniffed, blinking back tears. My eyebrows rose in surprise. This was the most emotion I had ever seen upon her face. "Tanya might have been a whore, but she was honestly a good woman once you began to know her. She had dreams and goals that will never be fulfilled now…murdured…" she whispered with glassy eyes. "My best friend. Can you imagine that? What if one of you died or disappeared like Tanya did? What would you do?" she asked, a sob threatening to burst from her throat.

"I don't know," Jessica and I said at the same time. We looked at each other, fearfully.

"You'd do the same things you always do. I thought my life would change drastically, but it didn't. Everything was normal with the exception of not being able to socialize with Tanya anymore. Too _damn_ normal, if you ask me." She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, turned to me with widened eyes, and then slowly placed that same hand over her heart. "Excuse my language, please. It's really a bad habit of mine that I only clean up whenever you visit. Though, I should not curse so much. It is not healthy for anyone. It puts even more anger into one's blackening heart." I simply shrugged my shoulders, a habit of my own that I'd picked up for filling in the silence.

"Lauren?" Jessica started timidly. Would she ask my most dreaded question for me?

"Yes, Jessica?" She smiled.

"Could we…do you have two extra dresses?" Jessica _blushed_. She didn't do it often and when she did, you knew that she was deeply embarrassed. Poor Jessica…I should have gathered a bit of courage and asked that for the both of us_._ I truly felt regretful. What was wrong with me? Jessica did so much for me, and I couldn't do that simple thing for the both of us. I was a terrible friend to her.

"Of course! I think I have one that would actually fit you with perfection this time, Isabella. I recall that last time you were too thin for it. It's brand spanking new." She laughed suddenly. I turned to see her breasts bounce along with her laughter – I quickly averted my now sinful eyes. "It's so ironic. The man promised to give me the dress on the condition that I spanked his…nevermind. You do_ not_ want to know. I may be quite open about my sexual activities, but this, my darlings, is _not_ something anyone should know. Even I was disgusted. Oh! And Jessica, I already know you want to borrow my jade colored dress. You always look quite smashing in that attire, if I do say so myself."

"Wonderful!" Jessica exclaimed as she started to dash toward Lauren's closet. I looked down as I walked behind Jessica.

"Which one?" I asked softly, embarrassed that I didn't have a proper dress of my own to wear to a _funeral_.

"Hm," she murmured quietly, sifting through the rack of expensive looking dresses. "Ah, here it is!"

I tentatively looked at it and felt a low gasp escape my lips. It was beautiful. A little bit revealing in the bust line, but other than that, it was absolutely perfect. _And_ it looked similar to the dress that I was wearing. My favorite, dark blue dress. In some ways, I almost wanted to say that this dress was better because of the complex pattern to it. I fell in love with it immediately. Well, I suppose I didn't _romantically_ fall in love with the dress Lauren offered me, but I already felt as though I adored it.

Suddenly, I realized with sadness that this was not something I should do. I shouldn't even borrow this dress. I wasn't the one who 'worked' to earn this beautiful evening gown. "Lauren, I'm quite touched that you would let me borrow this lovely dress," I started, tears swimming in my eyes, "but I don't deserve something so…so lovely. It's a beautiful dress, you should wear it instead!" I exclaimed as a single tear fell down my cheek.

"You don't deserve…? Where the hell did you get such an idea?" She clamped her hand over her mouth again. She giggled. "Oops. Someone should put several bars of soap into my very dirty mouth. And let me tell you, if you knew what I've done with this mouth… At any rate, Isabella, this color looks disgraceful on me, simply disgraceful I tell you, so when the man promised me the dress, I asked for the sizes that I thought would fit you best. And I've been anxiously awaiting your next visit for you to try it on!"

I sniffed, wiping my nose on my sleeve. I couldn't believe my actions. Had I not told myself to not shed tears for it would drain even more energy out of my already exhausted body? _I_ was disgraceful. I didn't deserve anything. I was just a little, no good –

Jessica wrapped her arms around me. At first, I froze because I hadn't expected her sudden embrace. No one had hugged me in years. I cautiously put my arms around her, too.

"You deserve everything, Isabella," she whispered softly. Pulling me back at arms length, she stared hardly into my eyes. "Do not ever let _anyone_ tell you that you are not worthy. You _are_ worthy. You've done something that I could probably never do. You've decided that death is better than sinfully losing your wonderful virginity. You deserve everything," she repeated, her eyes softening. Finally, she dropped her arms.

"Thank you," I murmured. "I wish the best for you as well, Jessica. I hope for great things in your near future. Your entire future."

I could tell that if we did not stop this little charade, we would both end up on the floor, clinging to each other as we tried to cry our fears and frustrations away. Luckily, Lauren put an end to it before it could even begin.

"Do you want the dresses or not, ladies?" She asked, raising one brow at me, daring me to politely decline her generous offer.

"At the very least, let me wear my own shoes. It will put my conscious somewhat at ease," I lightly pleaded, but was prepared for defeat. I knew she would refuse me – it was simply something that Lauren would do.

"You mean to tell me I bought an extra pair of shoes for no reason?" She laughed. "As I've said many a time to you before, _nonsense, Isabella_! You are my guest, and I am your host. Let me entertain you. Oh, goodness, that sounded a bit naughty." She began to giggle and I stared at her blankly. _Naughty?_ I couldn't figure out what was so naughty. I looked over to Jessica for help, but she blushed and avoided my questioning gaze.

"What is…naughty?" I whispered the despicable word.

"Nevermind," she said with finality in her tone. Apparently, it was too _naughty_ for my ears. "Here," she said, and pushed the dress and shoes into my empty hands.

"Thank you," I said quietly as I hung my head in shame.

"You're most certainly welcome. And I have a surprise for you and Jessica that I won't let you refuse when we get back from the funeral," she said with an almost smug tone to her voice.

"What is it?" I wondered.

She giggled again. "You'll see…" she trailed off mysteriously.

"Lauren, you know I truly despise surprises," I said as gently as I could. Ever since Sue had thrown me out of 'my own' house, I couldn't bear to have any more surprises in my life. I didn't like unexpected turns in my life, either. I looked over at Jessica for support, but she was smiling at the thought of a surprise.

Lauren's eyebrows raised, but not with astonishment. "Isabella Marie, I wish to give you one _happy_ surprise after the funeral in celebration of Tanya's parting soul and me moving on to find new friends. Besides, I'll just count them as Christmas presents to both of you. Let me have my fun, dearest." She ended the last word with a small smile on her face. "I know you'll love them."

"I probably will," I sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing.

"You're too independent for your own good," she said fondly. "Now, both of you, go take a bath before wearing my clothes." She shooed us off to the bathroom.

"Oh, dear, this might be…uncomfortable," Jessicca said, looking embarrassed.

"What?" I wondered.

"Madam Jane only allows one tub to be filled with water every day," she said tentatively, as if expecting me to become upset over this. A few years ago, I would've been, but today, I was merely grateful to have a bath. I shrugged my shoulders.

We both stood in the tub, backs facing each other. We both tried to bathe as quickly as possible while standing. I felt myself blush the entire time. I couldn't believe I was doing this, but I felt much cleaner.

Afterwards, we both put on our only dresses and walked back to Lauren.

"Did you use some shampoo? What about my soap?" She questioned us just like a worried mother would.

"Yes, and yes," I replied tentatively. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Heavens, no!" She yelled happily.

Suddenly, I wondered something. "Where is your changing room?" I asked. Now, both Lauren _and_ Jessica looked at me incredulously.

I looked at Jessica again, and I could tell she was stifling her laughter down her throat. "You expect a whore house to have a _changing room_?" I blushed, realizing how the question must have truly amused them ever so much.

Lauren shook her head with a child-like look in her eyes that I had never seen. "Still so innocent…" she whispered to herself. Smothering her last words, she added, "I still say you could be a real vixen." She nodded as if to confirm a business transaction.

Suddenly, an idea popped into my mind. "Would you mind if I change in the closet, or on the bed? With the drapes shut, of course," I stated.

"Erm…" She looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure if you would enjoy the _smell_ of the bed." I frowned. Why would it smell bad? "How about you go and change in the closet instead? Just make sure to leave it a little bit open – I don't want you to fall and hit your head or something."

I blushed. "That would be quite dreadful, wouldn't it?"

"It would."

Jessica and Lauren changed in the room openly while I cautiously changed alone in the closet. I felt ashamed for taking my clothes off when two other people were in the same room.

Afterwards, Lauren said, "Oh, you look simply marvelous, simply marvelous, doesn't she Jessica?" she exclaimed excitedly, clapping her hands together in a quick motion. Suddenly, she stopped.

"What's wrong?" Jessica asked.

"We can't go to _Tanya Denali's_ funeral without fixing our hair. All of us. Tanya loved her hair and felt that it was important to make sure and have it styled beautifully every day. I shall not mock my best friend at her own…funeral. The poor thing," she said sympathetically.

Jessica styled my hair, Lauren styled Jessica's hair, and I styled Lauren's hair. It felt heavenly to use a comb and brush again.

Once we were finished, we stared at ourselves in the mirror for a few minutes. I was speechless.

I actually looked beautiful.

My dress was ever so lovely and my hair was…well, it was sort of _pretty_. It was in a complicated looking bun that was fit for a princess, according to Jessica.

"Wait a minute!" Lauren bellowed without warning.

"Yes?" I asked curiously. Not saying a single word (which was completely unlike her), she licked her thumb and began rubbing the side of my cheek. "Lauren, what _on earth_ are you doing?" I tried to scuttle away from her.

"Hold still, there's still a smudge on your cheek left. I believe it's dirt," she said calmly.

"Oh," I replied simply, embarrassed. "Thank you." I was mortified. I had thought she was trying to be inappropriate or something of the sort, when in reality, she was trying to help me.

"There," she said finally, satisfied. "Ready, ladies? I think I just heard the front door close, which means Madam Jane is home from her errands."

"How did you know she had left?" I asked, stunned.

Jessica laughed softly. "Madam Jane leaves for errands every morning."

Suddenly, I wondered if she was really only going out to town just for _errands._

**Is it just me, or did you get a little emotional as you read the part where Bella thought she didn't deserve anything? I felt tears in my eyes! Maybe it's because I was writing it and saw it happen in my mind.**

**Hmm, where does Madam Jane go off to every morning and what are Jessica and Bella's surprise?**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I'll send out a teaser!**

**Em**

**PS – My Darkward would love to meet you all in the next chapter. ;)** **Actually, you might be surprised at how his actions are at first. Hee hee, his personality afterward will **_**really**_** shock you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

***Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews and please don't forget to leave me one at the end of the chapter so you can have your teaser (if you've enabled PMs)!***

**Kinda Important: I don't know if I've said this before (I don't think I've said it), but some chapters will be a lot longer than others, and others will be shorter. I'm trying to make them longer, but for some chapters, it's just gonna be impossible. To make up for their shortness, you'll get those chapters a lot faster than a regular chapter. But you won't be getting a short chapter for a little while. :)**

The Blood Slave

Chapter 3

"Well, come on now, we don't have all the time in the world. Tanya needs to get in the dirt soon before her body starts to bloat. The poor thing, she always told me she'd never get fat," Lauren said sympathetically.

"It's natural, though. If her body is to…well…" Jessica trailed off, struggling for more polite ways of saying it.

"Decay? Turn back into the dust from which she came?" Lauren finished for her. Jessica nodded uncomfortably. She didn't like talking about death – I suspected she had some sort of past experience that made her so uncomfortable with the topic. I knew how she felt. I'd felt that way ever since I'd learned my mother had truly passed away. Death had always been a dreadful topic before, but even more so since her death. I'd loved, and still do love my mother ever so much. I continued to visit her grave as often as I could.

"Ladies, I'm back! Whoever wishes to pay their last respects to Tanya Denali may do so! You may even ride in my carriage!" I heard Madam Jane yell. She sounded almost…giddy. Strange.

"Well, I guess that's our signal to leave," I joked, and turned to the door.

"Signal?" Jessica and Lauren said in unison.

"Yes, I mean…never mind, I'm not exactly sure what I mean," I said, blinking. What had possessed me to say such words?

Lauren sighed and patted me on the shoulder as she passed me. "You're so odd, but I still love you, dear," she said in a motherly tone.

Jessica looked hurt. "What about me?"

Lauren looked like she wanted to laugh, but she held it in. "What about you?"

"Lauren, be nice," I said tentatively, trying to stick up for my best friend. "I love you, Jessica," I told her, blushing. It was always so hard for me to express my feelings to others. I feared they would leave me…just like my entire family had.

"Aw, thank you ever so much, Isabella!" We all chuckled together and went down the stairs.

As I walked down the bottom half of the stairs, I glanced into the living room, which was now on my right. About a dozen or so young women lounged in the room. They were all chattering away quietly. There posture was very relaxed and they seemed almost happy. A few of them even smiled. I looked around to see that there were no men there. They'd all probably left to their respectable occupations or their 'perfect' families. I felt terrible for them. They only saw the cruelest men and they never had the opportunity to meet a man suitable to be their husband. They never met a family oriented sort of man. They only knew of the sex-crazed ones. It was horrible. I desperately wished that there was something I could do for them, some way I could help to ease their pain. But I knew that I would need money to do that, and I didn't have any to offer or to call my own. Jessica did have a nickel now, though. But how would a nickel affect all these girls in some way? It was impossible. I was a fool.

The three of us walked into the room, and I saw a younger girl lying on the couch. She was even smaller than me. She had beautiful chestnut locks of hair. She was crying, the tears flowing freely down her pink cheeks. "He…he slapped me," she sobbed, hiccupping. "He slapped me," she repeated, her voice stronger this time. All the other girls looked down at her sympathetically.

"You'll just have to get used to it, dear. No man really respects women," a young blonde woman said. A pang ran through my heart – surely her statement was not true? I had to hope. If I didn't hope, I wouldn't survive. Looking more closely at her, I recognized her as the gorgeous lady that had been on the same couch when I first came into Madam Jane's house. A man had been…touching her breasts. I looked at her with sadness. She thought that there wasn't a decent man out there. There had to be. There just had to be.

Right?

Was I wrong when I felt that there was a wonderful man somewhere in the world that was created to be with a specific woman? No – I had to have that hope. I had to have the hope that someday I would find a man that would truly love me despite all my hideous imperfections. And He knows I have many imperfections. He also knew that I prayed every night to Him, wishing for a change in the wind so to speak. I needed luck or something. Or at the very least, I needed a blanket to keep the chill away from my body when I was out in the streets at night, especially during this time of the year. It was nearing Christmas already again.

I felt sad suddenly – I hadn't had a proper Christmas in years ever since…I stopped my train of thought immediately. This wasn't the time to dwell on the past. I would do that again and again once I was alone and away from everyone else. I wanted to appear stronger than I actually was, but sometimes certain events I saw tugged at my heart.

"Well, are we ready to – my goodness! There are so many of you! I didn't expect _everyone_ to want to go. My goodness," she repeated, muttering to herself. "Well," Madam Jane sighed, "I suppose a few of you will have to walk beside the carriage. I'm sorry." She didn't sound very regretful.

She walked to the door and opened it. The girls followed her silently with their heads bowed in a single file line. I walked out as well. The moment I stepped outside, I felt the wind whip my face and send shivers up my spine. Why did it have to be so bloody cold? Why? It just wasn't fair. Then again, nothing was ever fair – I had really learned to become friends with those words. Everyone should be warm. No one should have to suffer. Ever. Madam Jane began to divide us into groups, and I wondered why in the world she hadn't done that when we were inside and _warm_.

Lauren shivered beside me. "Coats are so damn expensive. Oops," she giggled, putting a hand to her mouth. "There I go again with my potty mouth. Please excuse my coarse language, Isabella." I merely shrugged, not knowing how to respond to her. _It's fine?_

"I do love your dress, Lauren, don't get me wrong," Jessica began, her teeth chattering, "but must the bust be so low?"

"Yes," Lauren said firmly. "Madam Jane won't allow it any other way. We aren't allowed to purchase modest-looking clothing."

The rule seemed silly to me, but I suppose dressing in…revealing outfits was a part of the art of _seduction_. I blushed at my dirty thoughts. Perhaps Lauren was right. Being in this sort of environment corrupted a person. I just hoped I wouldn't be corrupted like the others had already been, but it was practically inevitable. I was surrounded by sin wherever I went, even though I tried to choose to ignore it all.

The ride in the carriage was silent. Madam Jane stared at me with a strange fiery calmness in her eyes, and Lauren sat as close to me as possible so we could share our body heat. It was considerably warmer in the carriage than it had been outside, and I was grateful, but I felt a tinge of regret every time I heard a rumbling cough coming from Jessica who walked alongside the carriage. I had tried to let her in the carriage and take my place instead, but Madam Jane had insisted I sit in her carriage and 'enjoy the blissful ride'. She'd chuckled after she'd said that and looked very happy with herself, which had made me very confused. What had she meant by that? Was she really talking about the carriage ride? I'd admit it was wondrous to not have to walk, but 'the blissful ride' was quite bumpy. I felt horrid after I'd thought that – it made me seem ever so disgustingly ungrateful. I should be grateful for everything I was given. I tried to thoroughly enjoy it after that.

I was the first out of the carriage, though. I ran to Jessica's side. "Jessica, you sound terrible," I told her, my lip trembling. I couldn't lose her – she was my best friend. She knew all my secrets, all my stories. She knew everything about me, and for me to just lose her… It would be devastating. I wasn't sure I could move on if she died. I would be alone. I supposed I knew Lauren, but it just wasn't the same without Jessica in the room as well. She held a conversation together when no one else could think of anything to say. She could make a person laugh if they needed it. And I needed her to be my friend. I needed her to live. I would most certainly go mad without her.

"I am all right, Isabella, you should not worry about me so," she said, trying to calm me.

"Will you be all right?" I asked, unsure.

"Yes." She smiled – it squashed my qualms a little bit, but I would worry no matter what. It was my duty. I had to worry about everyone I cared about or I would lose them. Just like I lost…I closed my eyes, trying to block out the memories, but I still saw the specific flashes of memories that pained me the most. "Come, Isabella." I followed her into the little church.

Once inside, the other girls began to remove their bonnets, but since Jessica and I had none, we stood there together. Both of us had our hands clasped together, trying to warm our own hands because the wind bit them for we had no gloves. No one from Madam Jane's had a coat with the exception of Madam Jane herself, so our group proceeded on. I looked over to Lauren to see how she was fairing. She looked as if she could faint.

"Closed casket," she whispered to herself, her head shaking back and forth slowly. It seemed to be a subconscious movement. "I can't…I can't even _see_ her one…last…time…" she choked, and then gasped, clutching her waist.

"There, there, Lauren," I said, blinking rapidly. I couldn't bear to see any of my friends suffer through such pain.

"I miss her ever so much. Ever so much," she sobbed brokenly.

"She was a friend of yours?" a male voice asked lightly, casually. Their voice, whomever it belonged to, was like music. Very, _very_ pretty music. Velvet music, if that made any sense, which it most certainly did _not_.I looked up and I felt my heart clench in what was almost wonderful pain.

He was perhaps the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was tall, much taller than the average man of today. He looked as though he were possibly about six feet tall, a height that was simply unheard of these days. He had a lanky build; not too skinny, but not too bulky, either. He seemed muscular from what I could tell (he was wearing a white dress shirt with a black suit jacket and black dress pants), but not to the point that his muscles were intimidating or overwhelming. He was very pale, deathly so; he was even paler than me, and I was very obviously the most pale in comparison to Jessica and Lauren. For a moment I wondered if he was a living corpse, but then I felt ashamed at myself. I shouldn't think such things for they were sinful. Horrid, even. I looked up, trying to distract myself, and saw that he had the strangest hair I'd ever seen in my entire life! It was a sort of reddish brown. Almost like a penny, it was a copper-looking color. Bronze, I finally decided. That was a good word to use when describing the color. I looked into his eyes and felt a jolt of sizzling electricity go through me – they were _blood red_. They were frighteningly beautiful deep red orbs, seeming to swim with several different constantly changing emotions. It was like he was having trouble controlling himself, but from what I hadn't the faintest idea. I stood there, gaping at him like a fish. I couldn't take my eyes off his beautiful features. He was…perfect. Angelic-looking almost. _But not a good angel with those red eyes_, I thought suddenly. _A fallen angel…and a mysterious-looking one at that._ Then, I guessed I shouldn't judge him because of his eyes. He might actually be a very good person with an eye disorder that caused them to be that color. But I'd never, in my entire life, seen someone with _blood red_ eyes. They were odd. No, different. Just different, not odd. _Different_, I thought to myself, trying out the word. I decided I liked that word very much when describing his eyes.

He chuckled, his strange red eyes dancing with mischief. "Do you speak the English language, darling? I thought I heard something come out of your lovely mouth a moment ago."

I blushed, and his grin widened. I felt like opening my mouth with shock when I saw his perfectly _white, straight_ teeth. "I can speak," I answered him shakily.

Several things were running through my mind all at once. My eyes could barely process his handsomeness, his clothing suggested that he was wealthy, and he would probably never be interested in the likes of me. I wasn't good enough. I didn't deserve –

Yes. According to Jessica, I _did_ deserve something. Everything. I deserved everything. I stood there for a moment, letting this new feeling within me fully sink in.

So, what was stopping me from trying to get him to become interested in me? He looked like a man that would easily be able to support myself and our children. If only I could figure out what would make him interested…. No! I would be myself. I wouldn't pretend to be someone I wasn't, that would only lead to ruin.

"As I was saying…she was your friend?" he asked again, slower this time.

"No, she was a friend of my friend," I said quietly, motioning to Lauren with my eyes, who was now currently sobbing in my arms.

"She was…the best…damn…whore…I ever…_met!_" she wailed, clinging to my, well, her dress at the last word. She put her head in between my breasts and continued to sob. My eyebrows shot up as the man cocked a brow at me.

"Erm…Lauren?" I began awkwardly. "Could you move your face from…there?" I blushed scarlet. I was so embarrassed.

"I'm ever so sorry, Isabella." When Lauren said 'Isabella', his eyes went to mine. I felt another jolt go through me, but it wasn't nearly as strong as the one I'd felt when I'd looked into his eyes for the first time.

"Isabella…?" he trailed off with a concentrated, but still kind look on his face. He looked like such a sweet young man. I guessed he would be a wonderful family man. Kind people usually were.

I almost said my real last name, but a little voice in my head told me not to tell him. He might know about my family somehow and what had happened to me. He could only ever look at me with pity then. His entire opinion would change of me, I was sure of that. I followed my instinct. "Isabella Smith." I felt somewhat thankful that Lauren was too distressed to notice that _I_ had actually _lied_ for once. I hated to lie – I was terrible at it and it wasn't right.

I would never know how much I would regret those two small words I'd just uttered until much later.

"Isabella Smith," he purred, both my first name and 'my surname' seeming to roll off his tongue with ease. "'Tis an absolute _pleasure_ to meet you, m'dear." I blushed at the word he'd chosen to put emphasis on. He held out his hand, palm up, and I stared at for a second, gawking at it. He had thin, long, deathly pale fingers. I wanted to say that they looked fragile, but they looked quite the opposite. It looked like he'd never done any hard labor, but somehow, he still looked 'as strong as an ox'. I blinked, and rested my hand in his. My eyes widened in shock, and I almost took my hand away from his at first in what I thought might be fear – his hand was ice cold. _Ice_ cold.

He bent over my hand and gently kissed my index finger's knuckle, and I frowned slightly when I realized his lips where just as cold as his fingers. Perhaps he had just gotten into the warm room? But when my mind fully processed he was _kissing_ my hand, my heart fluttered. It was a sort of tender, grazing sort of kiss. It felt very nice. I blushed again.

"Do you blush quite often?" he asked suddenly, releasing my hand. I could've sworn he'd…sniffed it before letting go. How strange. Perhaps he liked the soap I'd borrowed from Lauren? Yes, that was understandable, the soap, of course, of course. How silly of me to even question this. How foolish of me.

"Yes," I answered, blushing even more. He stared at my pink cheeks and swallowed convulsively. Suddenly, he cleared his throat and jerked his head to the right. It was as if someone had called his name. But I hadn't heard anyone holler.

"Edward Masen, you dog! You didn't even say hello to me!" Madam Jane called, smiling widely. _Edward Masen. What a name._ I'd always loved the name Edward, and it seemed to suite him. Madam Jane's eyes were shining with excitement. I'd never seen her so happy. She knew him? He didn't…he didn't do _that_…did he? My heart felt heavy with sadness already at the thought of him being sinful.

He looked embarrassed as several people turned to look from him to Madam Jane. Most people ogled him after merely glancing at her. I could easily _see_ why.

"Well?" she said impatiently. He cocked a brow at her and spoke in a cold tone. It was much different from the voice he'd used with me.

"Hello, Jane. It is wonderful to see you on such a _ghastly_ day." The pleasantry seemed forced as he spoke tensely through his teeth.

She looked as if she were about to burst from fury, but at the same time, she looked as though she were about to go into shock. Her mouth flung open and dangled about for a moment before she somewhat composed herself. "Hello, Jane?" she repeated, still dumbfounded and befuddled.

"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me." He took my hand, and carefully moved Lauren into Madam Jane's arms. Both her brows were raised to the point that there were creases in her forehead.

"Pardon me," he said regretfully as we began to walk away from them, "but my father has business with her. She seems to fancy me, but I don't in the least. I believe she is…sinful," he whispered the last word carefully, gauging my reaction to the awful word.

"Oh," I sighed happily. His breath was like peppermints.

I continued to walk down the aisle with him; we were becoming much too close to the casket for my liking. Suddenly, I realized I was being incredibly rude – I hadn't yet made one attempt at conversation in the short time I'd known him.

I said the first thing I could think of. I quickly decided to drum up conversation with what I thought was a very safe topic.

"The weather is terrible, don't you agree?" I asked, trying not to blatantly stare at the coffin. My eyes closed briefly, and I saw a flash of my mother's also closed casket funeral.

"Oh, yes. I had hoped for better weather today since I was coming here, but alas, I suppose you cannot have everything you want," he replied delicately.

"That is very true," I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I shouldn't be bitter. I should be happy that I have anything at all. I tried to distract myself by continuing conversation. "I wonder what happened to her," I mumbled absentmindedly.

"I've no idea," he murmured, but I could've sworn I'd heard a…certain tone to his voice. For some reason, I felt he was lying. But that was ridiculous. This man couldn't possibly have anything to do with this girl's death. It was simply impossible. He seemed so sweet. But his tone…it was concerning. It seemed as though he were trying to stop himself from laughing. Perhaps he thought it amusing that I should worry over how a sinful harlot died? That was very plausible. I suppose that could be humorous to some. I was overanalyzing this. The first time a man actually wastes his valuable time to speak with me in years, and I overanalyze his every move. How critical I am.

There was an awkward pause as I continued contemplating this, along with my internal battle. _To analyze or not to analyze?_ I wondered, thinking fondly of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_. "Do sit down," he finally said. I looked around and took in my surroundings. We were currently standing in the center of the front row, and I was right in front of the casket. I swallowed, trying to not do so that obviously. Directly behind me was the exit, along with the coat rack and the majority of the few people in the room. To my left were the few flowers and trinkets that had been placed at said area in remembrance of Miss Denali. To my right, was a gorgeous piano. How could I not have noticed it before?

As I sat, I continued to stare at the piano. It was a beautiful grand piano, but I did not care for the color. It was a tan, but almost muddy brown. Even though I didn't like the color, it was still a piano. I wanted to rush over there while trying to ignore the fact that I would be even closer to the dreadful casket, and play to my heart's content. I felt my eyes moisten as I remembered I had played at my mother's funeral. I'd played what I guessed her favorite song was. I imagined what it would be like to play just once more. It would be wonderful. Heavenly. My hands would ghost over the keys, fearful of a mistake. But when I finally played, everyone in the room would hear and accept my painful story. I always did express myself well through music….

"Are you all right?" a voice beside me asked.

"Hm?" I jumped in my cushioned seat – it was a very comfortable chair. The voice had brought me out of my reverie. "Oh. I'm fine," I said automatically, tentatively glancing at his strange red eyes. I looked back at the piano, continuing to blatantly stare at it without shame.

I heard him ruffle through his suit jacket beside me. I cool finger tapped the side of my arm, and I turned my head to face him again. He was holding a handkerchief out to me.

I blushed. Was I causing that much of a scene with my slightly emotional state? I hoped not. "No, thank you, though," I said politely.

"Sorry," he apologized, noticing my discomfort at his offer, "but whenever I see a damsel in distress, I always try to save her." He grinned briefly. My heart fluttered – he had the most beautiful crooked smile. His grin widened as if he'd heard that. "Though, I'm somewhat surprised, actually. You told me earlier that Miss Denali was indeed not _your_ friend, but your friend's friend. I am surprised because I did not expect you to cry," he ended softly, his kind eyes shining with tenderness.

I flushed again, even more embarrassed. "It's the piano," I whispered.

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"The piano. It's a beautiful piano…" I trailed off, looking at it again.

"Oh…you play?" he asked with a note of surprise.

I closed my eyes briefly. "I haven't in years. But perhaps someday…"

"Ah, I see. You love to listen to and look at pianos, but when you did play once upon a time, you found it more difficult than you'd hoped it would be and it overwhelmed you. That happens to a lot of beginners, but in my opinion, it only depends on who is teaching the pupil," he said in a…well, it seemed like a smug tone. I frowned at his words, choosing to ignore the tone – that wasn't it at all. How could he think I would give up piano? Did he think me lazy?

"No, I just…that isn't it," I said in an almost short tone, and I instantly regretted it. Here he was, being nothing but kind to me, and I was rude to him.

_I _am_ terrible_.

He sighed lightly. "You confuse me," he admitted. The truth rang clearly through those three words.

I tried to smile when I looked at him. I didn't smile often anymore. "I'm honestly not that difficult to understand." Once you've known me for a few weeks and have looked at me with an open-mind, that is.

His eyes went from liquid to a solid, the dark red orbs no longer swimming. He did not smile, and his tone was completely serious. I felt a dark cloud pulse around us, preparing for a storm. "Oh yes, you are."

The pastor soon came round to give a service for Tanya Denali. The piano was played throughout the service, and I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. I did not look at him at all; I continued staring at the piano. I felt a little bad after the service – I'd ignored him, refused to look at him. I was surprised when he offered to drive me to the funeral in his carriage, but I politely declined, stating that I'd only wanted to attend the visitation. It was only true. If I had gone to the burial with him, I would've either had to rely on him for another ride, or I'd have to walk all the way to Madam Jane's in Lauren's dress.

He'd bent over, kissing my hand again, and his last words to me then were, "As you wish, my dear. I shall undoubtedly see you soon." This surprised me even more. Even after being so rude to him, he still wanted to see me again? Perhaps, as Mother would say, _He's the one_. My poor, wonderful mother. Every time a man _looked_ at me, she would excitedly begin to plot how to get him to visit, when the wedding would be, how many children we would have…how active our intimate lives would be together…she always said that my husband and I would make violent love quite often as she and my father did when they were young (she was shockingly open about her relationship with my father. He'd loved her very, very dearly. But all that eventually changed)…. She also always told me whenever my father wasn't around, _If he has just a decent income, but wears pants with more material in the front than most men, marry him right away if he proposes!_ I'd always tried to shush her when she said that while blushing madly, of course. What she said was such a worldly thought.

She was so full of life, my mother. I missed her dearly. I even missed the fact that half the words that came out of her mouth made me blush.

Coming back to the present, I thought about Edward Masen's last words to me today. I hoped I would see him again, but _I_ highly doubted I would see him again. How in the world would he find me wandering the streets of Chicago?

If, somehow, we _did_ end up meeting again, I'd call it fate.

**Not what you were expecting, hunh? *chuckles* You'll see his dark side soon…**_**very**_** soon… I wanted him to be nice to her at first so it makes his cruel side even more real to her. Besides, he's gotta be a gentleman in public! Keep up appearances, etc. Also, this story is suspenseful. I'm going to drag everything out as slowly as I can.**

**I finished the plot-by-chapter document I have for this story, by the way, so I won't be having any problems with writer's block. There were so many ways to end it, and I think I chose the best one, but I guess I'll just have to see. The story will have about 60 chapters or so plus an epilogue as of right now, unless I change my mind.**

**PLEASE REVIEW because I'll send you a TEASER! =)**

**Em**

**PS – I stared at my piano for like ten minutes before finally deciding that my piano will be Edward's piano. My mom was like "Why are you staring at your piano? Play for me!" So then, obviously, I played for about an hour or so while thinking of the description for the funeral piano. Actually, when I give you the link, you'll be able to see this piano on YouTube (if you want). But that won't be for a while.**


	4. Unfortunately, it's an AN

**Erm…*sheepish smile and tiny wave*…hi.**

**First and foremost, ****PLEASE READ THIS BECAUSE IT EXPLAINS WHY I'VE BEEN GONE, HOW I'LL UPDATE, AND WHY****.**

**(I have put this AN on all my stories, so if you are following all of them, don't bother to check the others.)**

**All righty…. So I know that I haven't updated in forever, but I have good reasons:**

**1. I had to take a test that determined whether or not I would get to graduate high school (I passed!).**

**2. Sports.**

**3. I'm taking an online summer class for ACT prep (ugh!).**

**4. My poor thumbdrive broke. :'( We've been friends for many years, too.**

**5. Life.**

**6. I'm now what you would call the unpredictable or unreliable writer. One day, I'm on a roll and writing like crazy. The next, I'm like "Enh…". So basically, now I write in spurts. **

**I've been really upset/angry over my thumbdrive, as it contained all my future chapters that I had written and my story plots, poetry, and whatnot, but I really have no one to blame but myself for it. It was my fault that it broke. It was getting kind of old, though, and I should've had the sense to save my files to my laptop instead, considering the fact that no one else uses it.**

**I've sort of adjusted into this strange summer with an extra class, no thumbdrive, etc. etc., so now I'm planning on coming back to the FF world yet again.**

**I will update as follows:**

**1. I will finish writing Paparazzi.**

**2. I will finish writing either The Blood Slave or His Secretary, Love, and Obsession – not sure which one will be completed first.**

**Ok, lemme apologize because I'm updating this way, but it really is the best way to update. I shouldn't have taken on all these stories at once, I think it sort of drove me away from updating.**

**Why will Paparazzi be finished first? Well, I'll be wrapping that one up like a taco first because a) it's the easiest, least complex plot, and b) it's the shortest of my current stories.**

**I originally planned for The Blood Slave to have about 60 chapters with an epilogue. But unfortunately, I only remember the basic plot. So, what I'm trying to say is, there might not be 60 chapters. It'll be more or less, depending on what I come up with for the new plot. My best friend has been really encouraging throughout the whole thing, saying that it'll be ten times better than the original plot, or something like that. :D**

**As for His Secretary, Love, and Obsession… I've lost the original 'feel' for the story, and I was so caught up in the fun of updating my first-ever story, that I chucked my original plans for it. Now that I'm a more experienced FF writer, I'm missing my original plans for it. So at the moment, I'm not too enthusiastic about the story, but I will finish it because I can't stand it when people don't finish their stories and don't have the courtesy to delete it for whatever reason. It's annoying. If my feelings on the story continue, I might have to actually chuck it, re-arrange things to my liking, and then re-start it. That'll be my last option, though, so if you like the story just like it is, don't worry!**

**Why am I finishing up one story at a time? I'm doing that because it's less confusing, and I'll be able to finish stories more quickly in the long run. One Bella has this personality, that Edward acts that way…yeah.**

**Also, I'm kind of losing my interest in Twilight. I'm beginning to realize stuff about it that I didn't…3(?) years ago.**

**When I've finished up all my stories, I'll be starting on and then finishing Played by His Own Game. After that, I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing. I might write another one of my stories that I have under "Future Stories" in my profile, or I'll possibly do a small, on-the-side Carlisle/Bella fic. Or I could post one of my one shots! Oh wait…damn, no thumbdrive. Ugh, this is so frustrating. Oh well, forget I mentioned it because I'm going to have to re-write them all. Ugh…**

**At any rate – oh! By the way, I almost forgot to mention – I'm not sure when, but I'm going to post a Harry Potter fic written with my best friend. I'm not going to mention the plot or anything – it's top secret. ;)**

**WARNING****: I understand that you're all probably furious with me at the moment, but writing stories can be difficult. Writer's get writer's block, have other duties, and besides that, this is just fan fiction. So, I suppose I won't be too upset if I don't get any reviews for my next new chapter (I probably deserve it after leaving y'all hanging for so long, and then bringing your hopes up with this AN, thinking it was an actual chapter), but if I don't get any reviews at all after a few chappies, I'll just move on to the next story and delete that story, or delete all my current stories and start with Played by His Own Game, and plan on re-doing all my current stories.**

**If I have to delete and re-do ANY of my stories, I promise to make it much better than the original AND be at least five chapters ahead so you can get regular updates despite my writing irregularities. :) I pinky promise even (and all my friends know that I never go back on a pinky promise!).**

**Phew! That was a long AN (2 pages)! Well, at any rate, it's great to be back, and you should be expecting you're new update of Paparazzi within three days. If you don't get the next installment within four days, start bombarding me with PMs. M'k? Ok. :)**

**Mwa!**

**Emily**


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